


dress up

by orphan_account



Category: Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: Angst, Complicated Relationships, Drabble, F/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: February 2020; Emilia takes the piss out of Kit after fashion week.
Relationships: Emilia Clarke/Kit Harington
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	dress up

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting for the original author, originally posted in February 2020.

Are you wearing fucking eyeliner in these pictures?”

He dared to be affronted. “What’s wrong with it?”

“You look like a 12-year old who discovered what emo means.”

“Fuck you.”

“Trying too hard darling.” She flicked through some of the photos snorting at one. “Christ above, what is with this look!? You appear constipated.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Remember to wash that shit off before bed.”

“Yes Miss Skincare Guru.”

She smirked, pursing her lips and taunting back. “Oh really? I’m the Clinique International Ambassador. You are trying to bring back guyliner and failing hard my dear.”

He rolled his eyes, his cheeks flushing slightly above his beard. She loved tagging him and he certainly could take the piss out of himself. “Where’s Ted?”

“Don’t try changing the subject.” Her beloved was curled up on the bed next to her. She promised herself she would not let him sleep with her until he was trained. That promise broke about three days after he came home.

“I’m not.”

“Did you lose a bet? Is that why?”

“I dunno, stylist thought it would be cool. I was game.” He puffed out his chest. “I am secure in my masculinity I will have you know.”

“Hmm I know, I remember when you wore my knickers that one time in Spain.”

His eyes darkened. No need for eyeliner there, she thought, crossing her legs and uncrossing them, trying to get more comfortable. Not quite possible with him looking at her like that. Maybe it was the dim light from his hotel room in Paris. Or the FaceTime. She swallowed hard.

“Something wrong?” he husked.

“No.”

“Hmm.”

She raked her fingers through her hair. “I have to go. Rehearsals wait for no one.”

“Not even their star?”

“Especially not me.”

He smiled. She felt flutters in her stomach. “I can’t wait to see it.”

It was her turn to mumble “Hmm.” She looked down at the image of herself in the little screen in the corner. They needed to stop. Before it got out of control. “Good night Kit.”

He suddenly blurted out: “She’s in another room.”

The clench on her heart almost killed her. She stiffened her back. Her voice cold. “Why does she even have to be there? Stop the charade. It’s unbecoming.”

It was his turn to stiffen. All teasing gone. The aristocratic clip in his accent hinted at his irritation with her. “You know why.”

“Because you’re fucking scared.”

“Because you are,” he shouted back. 

This was the same old fight. Frost filled his words. “I deserved to be happy and I was.”

“Was, Kit. You’re living separate lives and make an appearance once every few months and why?” She snorted again. It was easier to be angry with him than to try to focus on the reasons for why they were in this situation. She was tired. Of more than just working as hard as she had been. “Forget it. Go fuck your cold wife, I’m done.” 

“Fuck you.”

They both hung up at the same time. She turned into her pillow and screamed, beating her fist on the mattress. Ted jerked up and yipped, tail thumping, his little body quivering at the sudden pull from his nap. Tears fell down her face and she picked him up, kissing his sweet head. “Why am I in love with a fuckup?” she mumbled.

She sighed, staring at nothing. It was not mutually exclusive. He had reasons to be wary. Just like her. She sighed again, defeated. And why does everything always seem to be in our way?

*****

Ted barked, his little feet scurrying on the hardwood, trying to rush his tiny body to the back door, but she beat him. Only her close friends came by the back gate. She grinned at him. “Who is it? Who is visiting us?”

She swung down to grab him, holding him under her arm and tugged the door open. She stared, smile falling. Her lips set in a fine line. “What are you doing here?”

He reached into the pocket of his coat and removed a black pen. She scowled, it was Clinique, she noted.

_What is he doing?_

He turned and she stared at his back as he did something out of sight. He suddenly swirled around, coat whirling with him, grinning. As pissed as she was, she snorted and laughed. He had put on the eyeliner- terribly. He held the pen back up and wrote something on his hand with it. He turned his hand and she stared at the scribble.

_**I’M SORRY** _

Fuck. She stared at him a moment, at his stupid face and weak smile and the dumb eyeliner. She sighed, holding the door open. “Come in.”

He hopped up into the house, calling over his shoulder. “Help me take this shit off, it was a bitch last time.”

“Can I give you a makeover?”

“Fine but none of that cream you keep hawking.” She giggled, running after him as he shed clothes up towards her room, carrying Ted with her. “You looked like you had a nice holiday in the tropics!”

“I looked like a pasty English bloke with a fake tan.”

She put Ted in his crate with some toys, falling into his arms as he swung her around towards her vanity. “Can I brush your hair too?”

“If you must.”

“My very own dress up Kit!”

He smiled, taking her lips with his. “Just like you asked for.”

She wrapped herself in him, his hands skimming over her breasts, eliciting a purr, her body betraying her head. She closed her eyes, sighing into his mouth. It had been awhile. She missed him. And like all those other times, she vowed it would be the last.

And like all the other times, she knew it wouldn’t be.

**Fin.**


End file.
